


Mollymauk's Lament

by walkalittleline



Series: Molly has a Charisma of 11 [2]
Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: M/M, Mild ep 22 spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-12
Updated: 2018-06-12
Packaged: 2019-05-21 13:42:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,931
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14916434
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/walkalittleline/pseuds/walkalittleline
Summary: Fjord isn't quite sure how he's become the relationship counselor for the rest of the Mighty Nein.





	Mollymauk's Lament

**Author's Note:**

> Sort of a continuation of my last fic. Molly is still useless.

It's just past dusk when they reach the Keystone Pub that evening, exhausted and sweaty but still bolstered by their achievement in clearing the safehouse as promised. Dent offers them a short wave in greeting from behind the bar as they troop in, mud-caked boots leaving wet splatters on the dark floors. There's a ripple of guilt through their group at the thought of Fabron, the table where they'd first encountered him currently occupied by a pair of seedy looking halflings in dark cloaks, but Beau is quick to assuage them as Jester mentions him fretfully.

"Hey, it's not our fault," she mutters, "He got snatched by that troll and it would have been stupid for us all to risk our lives more than we already did for someone who was already gone. Besides, we lost a hundred freakin' gold, so really, we're the ones in the negative here." She hesitates briefly before patting Jester awkwardly on the arm, looking at Fjord for approval.

He nods and flashes her a subtle thumbs up, thinking it better not to mention it may not be the best time to bring up the lost gold at this particular moment.

"I kill people!" Kiri pips up happily, holding her dagger aloft.

Nott shushes her as Jester lets out a quiet giggle, expression brightening slightly.

"Now, Kiri, what did we say?" she says with the air of a mother reprimanding their child as she fusses with Kiri's cloak.

"I am very sweet," Kiri replies brightly as he eyes crinkle with what Fjord imagines is a smile, her pointed black beak bobbing as Jester pats her head approvingly.

"I don't know about the rest of you but I desperately need a bath," Molly says and pulls a face at the sodden and muddy hem of his coat. "I'm pretty sure I could wring half the swamp out of my clothes right now." He sniffs the collar of his jacket and wrinkles his nose unpleasantly. "And I smell like a dead fish."

"I would not be opposed to a bath," Caleb says. "What?" he adds when he receives several looks of disbelief in return. "Mollymauk is right, we are all dirty and tired and I believe a hot bath is well deserved."

"Caleb, I'm so proud of you," Jester says, grinning teasingly. "First a shave and now a bath. Next, we will have to get you some fancy clothes."

"Let's not get ahead of ourselves," Caleb deadpans.

"But Caleb, your coat is so _stinky_ ," Jester whines and scrunches up her face as she plucks at the worn and patched sleeve of Caleb's long coat.

"I'll ask Dent about the bath," Fjord cuts in before a full-fledged argument about the state of Caleb's clothes can break out amongst them.

Dent directs them towards a tiny bathhouse near the edge of the Stilts, where the buildings began to rise out of the low hanging fog on high tresses sticking out of the marshy ground like skeletal trees, dark moss and algae creeping up the sides in spots where the water has begun to creep further into the town. An elderly half-elf woman greets them as they enter, her eyes widening as she takes in the sight of them all before her expression returns to a gracious smile and she ushers them in.

They each pay one silver for the bath and to have their clothes cleaned, Nott unwrapping the many bandages from around her hands and face as the half-elf woman eyes her with increasing confusion. The bath area is small but welcoming, empty apart from their little group given the late hour, and they crowd their weapons and packs into the corner before sinking into the warm water with a collective sigh, steam billowing thick around them.

"I can't wait to get out of this stupid swamp," Beau groans as she scrubs caked mud from her arms, the water turning dark around her. "I think this was worse than the sewers."

"We are always fighting in dirty places," Jester laments with a sigh. "The next time we fight something maybe it can be in a pretty flower field, oh! Or maybe in a nice clean town square."

"Are many creatures running around town squares needing to be fought?" Yasha says, tilting her head at Jester curiously. Her long hair is just dipping below the water, dirt rinsing steadily from the white tips.

"The last time we fought in a town square I almost got killed by a fucking gnoll crossbow," Nott pipes up angrily from where she's clinging to the edge of the bath next to Caleb, treading water. Kiri is seated on the lip of the bath beside her, kicking her scaley feet happily and occasionally ruffling her feather to shake off the condensing steam.

"True," Jester says, humming thoughtfully.

"I think regardless of where we are fighting we will get filthy," says Caleb absently.

"Caleb, you look so pretty without your beard," Jester says fondly. He has a dark shadow of scruff across his face from where Yasha had shaved him that morning, though his face is still relatively smooth compared to the thick beard he'd previously had.

"You should have Yasha cut your hair," Jester continues, reaching across the bath towards him.

Caleb recoils, seemingly reflexively, with a frown and Jester pouts as she returns to her seat.

"I think it's fine long," Molly, unusually quiet up to this point, says softly.

Fjord glances over to the tiefling, watching as his eyes widen slightly and he falls silent again, clearing his throat and frowning down at the water.

"Thank you, Mollymauk," Caleb says and gives Jester a pointed look. "I am not cutting my hair, Jester."

"I mean, yeah," Beau chimes in as Jester folds her arms moodily. "You've got that kind of cool, drifter thing going on." She gestures vaguely to Caleb who blinks back at her with a perplexed look.

"Thank you, Beauregard," he replies, tone half questioning. "I think."

Beau shrugs and returns to washing her hair with a noncommittal grunt. Fjord glances over to where Molly is seated across from Yasha, his head still bowed and his brow furrowed in a small frown.

They all fall into an amicable silence as they continue to wash themselves of the remaining sweat and muck that has worked its way under their fingernails. When they walk back to the pub, clothes freshly laundered and muscles still aching, night has fallen fully over the swamp. The clouds of midges have thinned slightly and the temperature has dropped low enough that their breath is visible around them.

They all disperse to their respective rooms with the exception of Molly, who opts to linger at the bar for a drink while Fjord returns to their shared room. He's in the middle of polishing his falchion when Molly joins him in the room almost an hour later, looking halfway to drunk and sloshing through the shallow puddle covering half the room to flop facedown onto the bed.

"Everything alright there?" Fjord says cautiously.

Molly heaves a sigh and rolls onto his back, staring up at the ceiling with a distraught expression.

"Fjord," he begins, still gazing at the low ceiling, "I think I might be sick."

"Oh?" Fjord says with a frown. He sets his falchion on the floor next to him. "How so?"

Molly sits up now, clutching his head in one hand and looking anxiously down at his lap. "I don't know what's wrong with me," he says. "My palms are all sweaty all the time and my chest hurts and I keep getting this weird feeling in my stomach like I'm going to be sick or something." He swallows thickly and runs a hand nervously through his hair as he looks up at Fjord. "You think I should have Jester take a look at me?"

Fjord presses his lips together firmly, resisting the urge to laugh with great difficulty and clearing his throat before he opens his mouth to respond.

"Molly," he says carefully, coughing to stop himself from grinning. "So, two questions. First question, does this seem to happen around a particular person?"

Molly frowns in consideration for a moment before his eyes widen in realization.

"Yeah," he says, nodding. "Yeah, it does. Do you think it's possible to be allergic to people?"

"God help me," Fjord mutters under his breath before continuing, "Okay, second question and, I cannot believe I'm asking this but, Molly, have you... have you ever been in love, like... romantically?"

Molly stares at him for a moment before his lips curl into a smirk. "Well—"

"No, nope, no, that is not what I'm talking about," Fjord says quickly, shaking his head and shuddering at the memory of being exiled from their shared room at the Pillow Trove. "I mean in _love_. Not... that."

Molly sighs and shrugs vaguely.

"I suppose not," he says, picking at one of the holes on the bedspread. "Not much of a chance to given I've spent all my time with the circus until I met up with you all. And everyone in the circus was like family, so..." he trails off with another shrug and Fjord feels a pang of sympathy for him.

"Well, Molly," he begins, "I hate to break it to you but I think that might be your exact predicament here. You've got all the symptoms, my friend."

Molly gives him a long, considering look like he's waiting for Fjord to give him another possible response. When Fjord merely shrugs apologetically Molly lets out a quiet, "fuck," and flops back on the bed dramatically with a pained groan.

Fjord allows him a few moments of contemplation before clearing his throat. "Have you, uh, talked to Caleb about it?"

Molly sits bolt upright again, color draining from his face and his gaze snaps back to Fjord.

"It's not Caleb, who said anything about Caleb? Why would you think it's Caleb?" he says very quickly, tone panicked.

"Uh huh," Fjord says with a deadpanned look. "Sure."

Molly groans again and buries his face in his hands and Fjord can't help himself from chuckling quietly. Seeing Molly, usually so calm and charming, behaving like a lovestruck teenager is undeniably amusing.

"What do I do," Molly mutters through his fingers. He drops his hands and gives Fjord a pleading look. " _What do I do_?"

"Talk to him," Fjord says, gesturing to the door, Caleb and Nott's room across the hall from their own.

Molly gives him a look like he's just recommend he take a stroll through town stark naked, which, admittedly, he'd probably be more inclined to do anyway.

"Hey, look at it this way," Fjord says encouragingly, "the two of you can win the top spot for the most fucking awkward couple on the planet if it plays out right. Which is saying a lot given the whole Beau-Yasha situation."

Molly snorts quietly. He drags his hands down his face with another long-suffering sigh.

"I need another drink," he says, wobbling a little as he stands again.

"Not going to make it go away, pal," Fjord says.

"Maybe not, but I prefer it to the alternative," Molly responds as he stretches luxuriously. He gives Fjord a quick, crooked salute before striding back out into the hall, the tails of his long coat dipping into the water pooled around the doorframe.

Fjord watches him go before turning back to his falchion with a roll of his eyes, wondering how exactly he managed to get tangled up in so many of his traveling companions' love lives.

 


End file.
